Page 118 of A Perfect Fit

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “She deserves to know.”

While Ivy and I aren’t on great terms, deep down, a part of me still cares for her—the guileless version of my sister that I know is still in there somewhere, despite all the crap she’s poured on me. If I spotted Ben cheating on her, I’m going to tell her.

Jackson’s expression turns into something gentle as he stares at me. “You’re a good sister, Bella.”

I sigh, leaning back against my seat. “I just want to do what I feel is right.”

He gives me a small smile. “I know.”

Taking out my phone, I send a text to Ivy, explaining that I saw Ben getting close with another woman.

She replies a few minutes later.

Ivy

Ben wouldn’t do that to me

I bite my lip. “Ivy doesn’t believe me. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“You did what you could,” Jackson says. “If she doesn’t believe you, that’s on her.”

“You’re right.”

It’s Ivy’s choice what she wants to do with the information I gave her. Like the saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

So, I tuck my phone away in my purse and tell myself I won’t let what happened get in the way of enjoying my evening.

For the rest of dinner, I forget about Ivy and Ben, focusing entirely on my date with Jackson. I catch him staring at my lips several times, but I know I’m guilty of doing the same to him.

At the awards night in Chicago, Hilary told me Jackson looked at me like I was a beautiful daydream and all he wanted to do was get lost in the thought of me. I can’t believe I was too oblivious to see it back then, but I do now.

Jackson looks at me like he sees all of me, not just who I am on the outside, but also my dreams and quirks and vulnerabilities. Like they matter to him. Like I’m beautiful not despite those things, but because of those things.

By the time we finish our food, my heart and stomach are both full, and I’m ready to leave. Preferably to Jackson’s apartment.

I’ve been replaying the delicious images of us in Chicago way too many times, and I want him to take me to his bed. I trust him, and I want him.

Once the bill has been paid, we wrap up inside the restaurant and head outside, waiting for Tony to pick us up.

The delicious smell of pasta from indoors drifts outside, and the city bustles with activity—lit-up streets, people walking about, and cars driving past, illuminated skyscrapers in the distance.

“Are you cold?” Jackson asks, taking off his suit jacket.

I shake my head. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

The temperature’s probably hovering somewhere near the higher end of the sixties, but it’s still somewhat humid and sticky.

Jackson nods. “Just keeping up the gentleman act.”

“I know,” I say.

A smile toys with Jackson’s lips. “So … what did you think of our date?”

“I loved every minute of it.” I glance up at him through my eyelashes, wanting to only speak the truth. “Best date ever.”

He’s staring at my lips again, an intensity in his eyes.

My breath hitches. “What about you?”